Sometimes I'd rather be a good memory, but I, I won't be there to comfort you. Waste deep - hands on the water. A little boy is wading, just laugh it off. Could it be a shadow of anxiety reaching out. I want a cure but don't want to listen. Sometimes I still feel so dry. I descend, don't know what I'm missing... that's why I'm calling for you. Sometimes I'd rather be a good memory, but I, I won't be there to comfort you. Months pass, the pool is dry, and I can still will myself. The cold air, the rain, and a simple twist of taste. And we've been treading deep, but that's something that we laughed off, but I'm almost through with hoping and youth. I want a cure but don't want to listen. Sometimes I still feel so dry. I descend, don't know what I'm missing... that's why I'm calling for you. Sometimes I'd rather be a good memory, but I, I won't be there to comfort you. Sometimes I'd rather be a good memory, but I, I won't be there to comfort you. (Ooh, ooh ooh)